


The Duel, Part II: This Time With Better Decision-Making

by peggy_rostova



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, M/M, One Shot, first published fic on this account that isn't crackfic yikes, i guess??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 22:50:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8075947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peggy_rostova/pseuds/peggy_rostova
Summary: Natasha has a serious talk with Dolokhov one night at a Moscow bar and urges him to make a move with Anatole.Modern AU set about a year after the events of Great Comet, with some canon conveniently altered.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so yup ceci est ma première fanfiction
> 
> not really but the first serious one on this account at least (that pegsnavi fic is a joke and a mess). i didn't edit this because i'm supposed to be doing homework whoops

“So, how long have you and Helene been together?” Natasha asked. She took a sip of her beer, thinking that she was really more of a wine kind of girl. Why was she at such a loud bar? Nice of Sonya and Helene to not show up.

Dolokhov laughed loudly, sharing a look. How clueless could Natasha be? He wondered if he was corrupting her by bringing her to such a rowdy bar.

“Natalya,” Dolokhov began, “I don’t know what goes on in the country, but we’re all super fucking gay here."

“You’re gay?” Natasha asked curiously, without judgment in her voice. Not surprised exactly/

Dolokhov sprayed beer from his mouth like people did on TV. It seemed the only appropriate reaction to the fact that Natasha might’ve thought he was straight.

“Really fucking gay,” Dolokhov answered. “Why would you think otherwise?” He was slightly offended by Natasha’s question. 

“Well,” Natasha blushed, “I knew Helene was bi, but you do seem to fuck a lot of girls. Your relationship was a definite possibility, I guess.” 

“I assure you I have no romantic or sexual feelings for women in the slightest,” Dolokhov said. 

“Why do you do it, then?”

Dolokhov had drank a lot of beer. Normally he wouldn’t be this candid with a girl like Natasha. Though Natasha and Helene weren’t that different in age, Helene seemed much older. Dolokhov was close friends with Helene, but they never really talked about serious subjects. Mostly they drank, gossiped, and teased each other, all in good fun. Natasha, though, was unnervingly honest.

“Emotional issues, I guess,” Dolokhov admitted. “The women don’t mean anything to me; they won’t affect me in that way. They’re safe, and I can’t get attached.”

“So you’re afraid of actually being with someone you’re attracted to?” 

“Well, among other things.”

“Such as?”

Dolokhov might’ve been drunk, but he was getting uncomfortable with these questions. He took another sip and asked, 

“Well, what about you, Natalya?”

Natasha bit her lip and said, “I don’t know, honestly. I’m pretty sure I like girls, though.” Right to the point. 

“Oh, okay.”

“Fedya, if you don’t want to talk to me about your love life it’s all right. You seem uncomfortable.”

“No,” he lied, “I’m not. It’s fine.” And he realized it was fine with him, because he needed someone to talk to about these things. It wasn’t like he was going to go to Anatole or Helene with it.

“Sure?” She didn’t seem convinced. Dolokhov realized Natasha probably had plenty of secrets of her own.

“Yeah. I mean, I guess I’ve only ever been around womanizing scum, so that was expected of me. And even after I realized, you know, well, I couldn’t stop.”

“You mean, like, Anatole?”

“Nah, Anatole’s all for show. He has plenty of commitment issues, but he can be bearable at times.”

“You know you don’t have to be a piece of shit just because he is.” Natasha finished her beer and tugged on her dress.

“Anatole’s not a piece of shit. At least, he says he has morals.”

“You two should date.”

“What?”

“Yeah, you’re both messes. Why not?”

“Um,” Dolokhov said, picking at the label on his bottle, “that’s complicated.”

“Well, everything’s complicated. Do you like him?”

Dolokhov looked at Natasha attentively. Her eyes were a nice brown and very expressive. He wondered if she’d had bad intentions in her life.

“What if I told you I’ve loved him since eighth grade?” He regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth. Maybe he was being too dramatic. No, but it was all true.

Natasha blinked and was quiet for a moment. “Oh, Fedya.” 

“It’s true.”

“That’s a long time.” She did the math quickly. “Twelve years. Fedya, that’s almost half your lives. And you’ve never told him?”

“I tried.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t.”

Natasha reached across the table for his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“We kissed once. We were sixteen, and it was a dare. I doubt he thought anything of it.”

A buzzing noise interrupted their thoughts. Natasha drew her hand away from his to go through her purse.

“Oh, Helene just texted me. She says ‘Have you gotten him to spill anything about Anatole yet? I’ve been wondering for fucking forever xoxo.’”

“Am I really that predictable?” Dolokhov wondered. “Wait. Did Helene set you up to this?"

“No, actually. I know better now than to tell people’s secrets. Twelve years is a long time, and you’re so devoted to Anatole. Why would you lend him so much money?”

Dolokhov snorted. “Lend. Like he ever pays me back.”

“Exactly. I don’t know about you, but I’m done with letting friends trod all over me. Even though I might come off as innocent, that whole shitstorm with Anatole and Andrey taught me a couple things. Trust me, you’re more than welcome to that man. I don’t want him anymore.”

“It’s not like I can tell him, though.”

“What’s the worst thing that will happen? It’s Anatole. He can’t exactly just stop talking to you. I’m friends with him, regrettably, and a year ago his tongue was down my throat.” Natasha grimaced at the memory.

“I’ve waited so long that I don’t think I could bare to see him reject me.”

“Even if Anatole doesn’t love you in that way, he’ll at least fuck you. Does that help?”

“No,” Dolokhov said decisively, “that would be worse than nothing at all.”

“Oh.”

“Can we talk about something else now?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“How’s Sonya? We did invite her tonight, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said, “but she had a date with Mary. Between the two of us, I think Mary might propose soon.”

“I just love them together. They both seem so much happier.”

“They really are. This sounds terrible, but I think her father dying is the best thing that ever could’ve happened to Mary. Though she didn’t realize how much she loved him until he was gone.”

“True, but there was so much resentment there. Now she gets to live. How come Helene didn’t come?”

Natasha went on her phone again and read, “According to a text from two hours ago, she says ‘I can’t be bothered to get off my ass tonight, whoops.’”

Dolokhov laughed, “At least Helene is always honest. She has no fucks to give.”

“You know, I think all of us are at a point in our lives when we’re so much happier than before. I’m really proud of us.”

“To us,” Dolokhov said, raising his glass in agreement. His face, however, disagreed. His life was exactly the same as a year ago. And the year before that. And ever since he’d graduated from high school, really. Not that he was having a miserable time of it. But fuck, Anatole. Fuck Anatole. Fuck.

Anatole.

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, concerned at once. “You look terrible, Fedya.”

“No, I’m not okay,” Dolokhov said. He stood up and started to put his coat on. February nights were bitterly cold in Moscow. “I’m going to tell Anatole.”

“Actually. You can finish my beer, it wasn’t that great, anyway.”

“Fyodor,” Natasha said, getting up as well, “you’re quite drunk. Are you sure this is a good idea?” She attempted to casually block him with her arms.

“I won’t be able to tell him completely sober. And I’m not that drunk.”

“You drank six bottles of beer in the hour we’ve been here.”

“Honestly, Natasha, you need to pay more attention. I just shoved four of them on the seat next to me. Being sad-drunk is worse than sad-sober for me.”

“How didn’t I notice?” Natasha chided herself. “Fedya, go tell him. Now.”

“I’m going to,” he said, hugging his friend. 

“Good luck.” He pulled away from the hug and started to walk away. Then he stopped and turned back to look at Natasha one more time before he left.

“Thanks. And tell me when you finally decide to ask Helene out."

**Author's Note:**

> lmao please tell me what you think and don't hesitate to give me negative feedback for improvement i need it
> 
> thanks for reading! :)


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